


Because You're Mine

by Error401



Series: In and Out [6]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Triggers, bad cop - Freeform, no zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error401/pseuds/Error401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you want?” Glenn hated that his voice cracked, that his eyes began to water with the threat of the hand on his neck, the hand that could easily stop his breathing. </p><p>“Me?” Shane grinned, applying a little pressure to Glenn’s throat, smiling when the tears spilled over. “Nothin’."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because You're Mine

When things were too good to be true, it usually meant that they were. 

He and Daryl had slipped into an uneasy companionship, Daryl stopping by occasionally on his graveyard shifts or leaving plastic bags full of venison jerky on his doorstep. They didn’t have much in common, but they didn’t hate each other, either, and Glenn was finding it easier and easier to read the expressions that flitted across Daryl’s face. He realized that Daryl had a cute side to him that he hadn’t been able to see before. That Daryl’s gruffness was only half-serious, and most of the time he was good-humored, not mean-spirited like Glenn had initially presumed. 

Glenn thought that maybe Daryl felt connected to him, or responsible for him somehow. Like because he had helped Glenn, he was now obligated to check in on him now and then. Glenn had to admit to himself that having Daryl pop in every so often did a lot to ease his loneliness. At the same time, though, he didn’t want the man sticking around because he felt he had to. If there was one thing Glenn didn’t want to be, it was a burden on anyone else. 

Still, he felt his tongue stick every time he opened his mouth to broach the subject. He didn’t want Daryl to leave. He had their routine, now, and he was happy. 

It’d been too quiet, too safe, too uneventful, and he had this sinking feeling that it wouldn’t stay that way for much longer.

He’d flipped off the last of the lights and watched through the plate glass windows as Randall climbed onto his bike and took off, not bothering to stick around while Glenn locked the restaurant door. In the too-early-morning silence, the keys were loud as they jangled into one another, and Glenn couldn’t help but wince. He hated being the noticeable thing. He slipped them into the potted plant by the door, which had a hidden compartment inside of it, for the people who opened in a few hours. It wasn’t the best system, but it worked. It’s not like the diner was in a dangerous part of town. 

He heard the familiar sound of wheels crunching on asphalt, and he turned to see a police car circle next to his own, facing out towards the street. They were probably looking to make their ticket quota before the end of the month was over. Looking out across the empty parking lot with the one flickering street lamp, it calmed his heart a little to see that there was nothing to be afraid of, especially with the police there. 

He swung his threadbare messenger bag over one shoulder and speed-walked to his car, fishing his car keys out of his pocket. He frowned at the layer of dust that grew darker and dingier every time he looked at it, but then smiled, as a certain person came to mind. 

And suddenly there were fists with handfuls of the back of his t-shirt, and he was swung away from the driver’s side door and onto a hood, his body bent over the edge. His stomach was cold where it pressed into the metal, and his fingers splayed wide as they tried to push away, but couldn’t. It was the police car. He was pushed onto the hood of the police car. There was no dirt. 

And the hands were no longer full of his t-shirt, but everywhere. Starting with his ankles and moving upward, patting, touching, lingering where they shouldn’t. “Got any needles or sharp things that could stick me?” the hands asked. Glenn squeezed his eyes shut, heart trying to hammer out of his chest. “Hey!” the hands demanded. 

“N-no,” Glenn said. “You know I don’t.”

One of the hands found his hair and claimed a handful, yanking it hard. “Do I, now? I coulda’ sworn I saw somethin’ sharp in one ‘a these here pockets.” The hands were on his arms, on his sides, flipping him onto his back and knocking the air from his chest. “You know how easy it would be for me to find somethin’?”

“You can’t do this,” Glenn whimpered, far too aware of the hands and trying to control his frenzied breathing. “You can’t—“

“I can do whatever the hell I want,” Shane said, smiling. “Find a little cocaine in your piece of shit car, a little meth in your bag, some heroin, a few syringes.” 

“But I didn’t…” Glenn said, shaking his head. “I didn’t do anything! You can’t just—“

Shane seemed to grow as he moved closer, leaning over Glenn’s body, smirking as Glenn tried to flatten himself even further onto the hood. “I,” he said, placing a large hand on Glenn’s chest, pushing down, “can do,” he continued, using the other one to hook into one of Glenn’s front pockets, too tight to fit the whole thing, “whatever I want,” he finished, wetting his lips. “Am I feelin’ some narcotics in here, boy? Do I have to check?”

Glenn’s mind went blank, the man’s sexual overtures obvious. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t. “Please,” Glenn said. It was the only thing he could think, the only coherent word he could form with numb lips, numb tongue. “Please.” The terror never seemed to decrease, just grow with every passing second. 

“I’m sure that man was sayin’ that when Dixon was bashin’ his brains in,” Shane shrugged, removing his hand from Glenn’s pocket and tracing it up the length of Glenn’s body, from his thigh to his chest, finally settling it lightly over Glenn’s neck. “But did ole Daryl stop?” He shook his head. “I’d hate to see anythin’ like that happen to you, son.”

“What do you want?” Glenn hated that his voice cracked, that his eyes began to water with the threat of the hand on his neck, the hand that could easily stop his breathing. 

“Me?” Shane grinned, applying a little pressure to Glenn’s throat, smiling when the tears spilled over. “Nothin’. Just thought I’d be givin’ you a friendly warnin’. Bad things happen to people who help Dixons.”

Glenn didn’t know how to respond. He was afraid, he could barely breathe, and he didn’t want to risk making the deputy any angrier or more volatile than he already was. He felt disgusted by the hand on his chest, felt the trail left behind on his body. The air rasped in and out of his chest as the fingers squeezed tighter.

“You tell him I said hello,” Shane said, moving the hand on Glenn’s chest to grasp his jaw and force Glenn to look into his eyes. “Make sure he gets the message, won’t ya?”

White and black spots were clouding Glenn’s vision by the time Shane let him go, and the only thing he could was lay there on the hood while he gasped, light-headed and shaking. 

“Get the fuck offa’ my car,” Shane grunted, and Glenn hurried to do as he was told, only he got barely two feet before his knees gave in and he had to cling to his own car for support. He was in some kind of shock, he knew that. His fingers were cold, his face hot, and he couldn’t move without trembling violently. The only thing he registered was Shane climbing back into his cruiser and gunning it out of the lot, dust kicked up in clouds due to the dryness of the ground. 

He had no idea how long he sat there, propped against his wheel well, but by the time he was able to move again, the sky was light, and he could see the sun peeking over the tops of a few taller buildings. “You’re fine,” he muttered, hands still unsteady as he searched the ground for the keys he’d lost in the surprise attack. “You aren’t even hurt. Not a mark on you,” he whispered, rubbing at his neck. Maybe a mark or two. His hand closed around his keys, half-hidden under one of his front tires. 

Daryl could never know.

He knew exactly why Shane had come after him, had threatened him, had made sure to bring Daryl’s name into it. If Shane thought that Glenn and Daryl knew each other, then he was trying to make Daryl mad, trying to make Daryl do something so stupid, so he could get arrested for it. 

Glenn didn’t have any illusions that Daryl cared about what happened to him. But just in case, he would keep it a secret. He was fine, after all. He was fine. 

He pulled himself up and unlocked his car, collapsing into the driver’s seat. He was wired, on edge, and he knew it probably wasn’t safe for him to be driving, but he started his car anyway, putting it in drive and inching slowly out of the parking lot. He couldn’t stand to be there for one more second. 

When he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he rested his forehead against the wheel. Took a few breaths in and out. He was fine.

Daryl didn't have to know.

**Author's Note:**

> I really love you guys. Hope you like! Sadly, no Daryl this time. But soon. Soon.


End file.
